Commotion of Emotions

Oh beautiful moonshine, Could you in time be mine? And keep me intoxicated, Through trembling tantalising time? Look, the sun is set to set, Is this not when we first met? The stars have risen to shower their light, But without you, nothing seems as great. If you were here in my tiny palace, I'd pour you open into the garnished chalice; Shake and swirl you in the twilight Dancing unafraid of all malice. But oh moonshine, the moon shines not tonight. Perhaps the benthic too miss this light. Because some have fallen for the dark, And Catharsis too is coupled with your sight! And this is time to dive or pull away, As I'm fixated on you across the alley, In love, lust, greed and opportunity, Should I go or should I stay?

                Do you think there is life after death?                 Do you think there is life before? Enough time has passed for me to be able to forget things. Yet I remember them, as clear as the first crystals of ice, sinking down a tireless landscape. In fact, not a day has passed when these thoughts haven’t crossed my mind. No matter the place, the time, the people, these memories always sit somewhere in the back of my head – crawling and scraping through all that is left to be called a human. In commotion the renegades sweep away places, but there are some hidden at the centre of the stage – looking over all; overlooked by all. And I wonder why they came to be what they came to be.                 Asha, a young girl, stands at the centre of the city bridge every midnight – ignored, attended by none. I first met her on the 21 st of December, when I sat on the same bridge with the whiskey beside. No security – all smeared by the holidays. One shot; Two shots;

I met a man from a distant land, He told me tales unheard of; Of clean air and clean seas, Of people living in harmony. Surely it is a lie thought I, Where hasn't greed overpowered guilt? But his stories and his innocence, Were allowance for my decadence! The world I come from, Has not much to do. There aren't solid houses; paved roads, There isn't pay, no work load. We reap what we sow, And share in times of need. Lentils, millets and rice, Is all needed to suffice. And time that is in plenty, Is spent in sharing stories; Of hardships in famines, Or of light hearted times. There's a river flowing through, A cascade we gather every moon; Sing hymns to the boisterous water, And the souls that it carries further. We care for all that's around, Or all that's around cares for us! We are the sons and the daughters, We belong, but nothing belongs to us! And atop the mighty mountain, Ins